Letters to Luke
by Agent13-Carter
Summary: Thalia writes 10 letters to Luke over the course of her long life. *Warning* Lots of swears; I imagine Thalia would be foul mouthed in real life, so I made her like that in this story.


**_Letters to Luke_**

"_I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you." _ - Long Live; by Taylor Swift

Dear Luke,

Its been two weeks since you've died. It feels just like yesterday. I'm sorry I couldn't come to your funeral; I had a valid reason, I swear. I'm just not ready to talk about it yet. Your death is still fresh in my mind. It hurts so much to think about you like that; still, pale, cold, and lifeless. Everything you weren't in life, you were in death.

I don't talk to anyone much anymore. Not Nico, not Percy, and not my fellow hunters; not unless I have to, anyway. Not even Annabeth, who I knows feels as much pain as I do, as much regret and anger at your death as I do.

I think part of the problem is that she has someone else to comfort her. She has Percy. And he's doing a really good job of that, though I'll never tell him. If he ever finds out, I know it was you're doing somehow. And I swear if that happens, I'll come down to the Underworld and gut you.

Anyway, she has Percy. And I…. I have no one.

You and Annabeth were all I ever had.

And now, now Annabeth is all grown up. She isn't that little girl we first met when we were on the run. She's grown. She matured. And what she can't manage by herself (which I'm sure isn't much), she'll have Percy to help shoulder the burden. She doesn't need me anymore.

And you…. You're gone. Damn it all Castellan, why did you have to do that to me? Why did you have to go and die on me? I never gave you permission to die!

* * *

Dear Luke,

Well, that last letter ended badly. Horrendously, actually. I was initially going to stop writing letters to you, because I know I'll never be able to send them, but slipped up and told Annabeth. I told her about that one stupid letter that had me crying like an idiot. Gods, I'm so pathetic now. Crying just as easily as those shallow Aphrodite kids. All because of you.

Damn it, are you happy now Luke? Now that you have the answer to your question; the question you asked me a week or so before we dueled on top of that cliff? I couldn't answer you; I didn't want to think about it at the time.

You asked me if I'd miss you if you died.

I didn't answer. I asked you what kind of fucked up question that is; but you kept pressing for an answer. In the end, my stupid pride got in the way, and I yelled at you and told you I'd never miss someone who had betrayed me the way you did. And the moment I said it, I immediately regretted it.

You looked so… So hurt. And I hated myself for lying to you and making you hurt like that. It wasn't the truth; the truth was sitting in my heart, but I was too afraid to let you know.

But now, I'm going to answer.

Now that your gone, I miss you so damn much Luke. So much where every time I think about you, think about what you must have looked like on that pyre, my eyes and the back of my throat start to burn. The Luke I had met in that dragon cave, the Luke that always had that goofy, lopsided grin, the one that always made me laugh, the one that was always there for me.

That Luke was gone.

The old Luke died a long time before the fight with Percy at Olympus. The old Luke, the Luke I used to dream having a future with, the Luke that I missed with every fiber of my being, was officially dead to me the day you poisoned my tree. I couldn't understand why you'd do that to me. Why you'd turn on me like that.

Family Luke, you promised. Isn't that what you told Annabeth and I? We'd always be family?

The old Luke, _my _Luke, wouldn't have done that. He wouldn't have forgotten.

Where did my Luke go?

* * *

Dear Luke,

Gods, every damn time I write a letter to you I end up crying. I know that some of the other hunters can hear me, even though I try to muffle the sound with a pillow. They can still hear me. What do they think of me? Most of them don't know much about me; only the shallow things, the information that are easy to give away.

Stuff like my undying love for Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Green Day, and that I hate Jesse McCartney's music.

Enough for them to get a sense of who I am, but not enough for them to really _know _who I am. Not the way you and Annabeth do.

Come to think of it, I don't think _anyone _knows me nearly as much as you and Annabeth do. Which I appreciate, actually. I wonder what that's like, to have all of you, every secret, every thought, every deep, dark emotion set out in plain sight for all to see. How absolutely exposed people like that must feel.

I've been actively avoiding writing another letter to you. I almost wanted to forget that the only way I ever felt like I was talking to you was through writing letters. But this morning, I was out on a mission with two other hunters, and I was running down the alley when I suddenly stopped. Across the street, out of the shadows of the alley, a little boy, maybe six or seven, with the wildest sandy blond hair I had ever seen, was standing in front of a shop. The hair color was just like yours. And then he turned to look at me, and I met his eyes for a few moments.

It took me a couple of seconds, but then the realization hit me in the gut almost as hard as the monster I was hunting hit me over the head. His eyes, deep and the color of the ocean; were the exact same shade as yours.

Annabeth said you'd try reincarnation. I just nodded, but I didn't believe that you would. Try for rebirth, I mean. You never were one to do things twice, let alone four times.

But in that moment, when I saw that little boy, I began to hope. And after that, I was sent flying by a giant green snake-like monster, but that's not really the point.

I actually became aware of how much I hoped you were going to come back.

I thought the little boy looked just like you, but when I lifted my head and looked at him again, I realized that his hair didn't seem to be the same shade as yours. It looked more brown than blond. And his eyes weren't the ocean blue yours were. They were murkier, mixed with sea green.

It's like that realization, the realization that he looked _nothing _like you, seemed to kill my hope that you'd actually come back to me. And I hadn't even known it had existed until a few moments before.

And guess what? Guess what I did next?

I _cried. _I fucking _cried. _

I cried while I stood up and picked my sword up and turned to face the weird snake thing.

I _cried _when I pressed my bracelet, Aegis formed, and I launched myself forward.

And I cried even fucking _harder _when cut off that creepy snake monster's head.

The hunters were looking at me oddly while I was holding the head with one hand, and trying to discreetly wipe my tears away with the other.

Damn it all Luke Castellan; look what a mess I've become.

* * *

Dear Luke,

Is this beginning repetitive? The whole shitty _Dear Luke _I have at the beginning? Should I change that? I mean, its kind of cliché. It sounds too much like _Dear John. _Ugh, what a stupid movie.

We'll never be like them. Like some normal couple in a sappy contemporary novel. We're not normal, so together, how could we be normal?

Then again, we'll never be together. You're dead, and I'm immortal.

You're dead.

I haven't thought about that in a while. And judging from the giant wet splotches on this paper, maybe I shouldn't.

Maybe I should stop writing letters.

* * *

Dear Luke,

Gods, I just can't help myself can I?

I realized something today.

You may have betrayed me, you may have poisoned me and almost killed me, almost killed Annabeth. You may be one of the most traitorous, heart breaking people I've ever met, you may have even disappointed me;

But you never let me down.

* * *

Dear Luke,

I tried, I really tried to stop writing you letters. I didn't write you a letter on your birthday, or on my birthday, or at Christmas, or anywhere in between.

I really thought I had gotten over you.

But you're not that easily forgotten Luke, believe me. I'm writing this at what I predict to be 4 AM in the morning. Some of the hunters, mostly daughters of Apollo, get up at about 6 AM, or whenever the sunrise is, so I have to write fast.

I had a stupid nightmare that scared the shit out of me, Luke. It just came out of nowhere.

It was a scene of you dying. Dying on top of Olympus. They told me you killed yourself; thus you were the hero of your own story. So I imagined you, taking Annabeth's dagger, telling her goodbye, making Percy promise to take care of her and me. I try not to scoff at the thought now. It would be so like you; I don't need to be taken care of, especially not by that Seaweed Brain (Annabeth couldn't have come up with a better nickname. We taught her well). But then…

You stabbed yourself. Under your left arm. And you fell to the ground. There was blood everywhere, and your eyes turned glassy. Annabeth was crying, Percy was kneeling beside you, and you looked so… So….

So broken. So unlike the smiling, laughing goofy Luke Castellan I know and love. You said something to Percy, and you turned to look to your left.

To look at me. And during the dream, it was like you made direct eye contact with me.

And you looked at me….

Looked at me like you loved me…..

* * *

Dear Luke,

I never even explained why that scared me so much in the dream.

And it wasn't until now, a few months after I wrote that letter to you, that I know why it hurt so much.

Because you've looked at me like that before. I could just never see how much you loved me. Loved me differently than how you love Annabeth.

Loved me like the way I love you.

And its not until now, now that its too late to tell you anything, to tell you how I feel, that I realize it.

I love you, Luke Castellan.

And you died before I could even figure out you loved me too.

* * *

Dear Luke,

I went to Percy and Annabeth's wedding today. As expected of Annabeth, it wasn't traditional at all. She was wearing a deep ocean blue wedding dress with at least a foot and a half long train. If you were still alive, she probably would have asked you to give her away. Don't worry; Chiron did a pretty good job. I was her Maid of Honor.

I couldn't help but note how happy she looked.

I'm glad at least one of us got our happy ending.

* * *

Dear Luke,

I'm ready to talk about it. The reason why I couldn't come to your funeral; the reason why I couldn't say good bye. Well, the correct phrase would actually be, _I'm ready to explain the reason why I couldn't come to my best friend's funeral because I've only just realized why myself. _

The reason I couldn't come was because you are the embodiment of all my hopes and dreams.

I loved you, I still do. Even after everything you've done, after everything you've done to _me, _I still love you as much as I did before. You stood for something good; your heart was in the right place. You were just led astray; I know you Luke. You'd never want to hurt me or Annabeth, you spent years protecting me, protecting us. All of us.

I couldn't go to watch your shroud burn. It would make you painfully aware that I didn't even have a body to burn or bury; the Fates took your body away. Which I guess is some great honor, but I can't help but feel resentment that I didn't get to see you one last time.

Watching your shroud burn would be like watching _you _burn. I don't think I could bear watching all my hopes and dreams burn on a pyre.

So I didn't. I hid in Artemis' cabin and cried where no one could see me.

I cried for what could have been. For the places I could have gone with you, the dreams I could have dreamed with you by my side. For the children we could have had; children who will never exist in this lifetime, but possibly in another, if you really do choose reincarnation.

You were a hero Luke. _My _hero. I knew it from the start.

And now everyone knows it too.

* * *

Dear Luke,

This is the tenth letter I've written you over the course of 86 years. I'm not ready; will never be ready, to say good bye. But I'm standing on Half-Blood Hill right now, where my tree is. Actually, I'm sitting in the branches.

Writing this letter to you.

Its been a while Luke. The last letter didn't quite feel final, so I felt I had to write an epilogue like letter to you. Though what's going to be written in here, I can't be sure.

Since I have no where else to start, I'll start here. On Half Blood Hill, where I was turned into the tree so, so many years ago. We were so young, and now I'm so old. Technically, I'm 101. I don't look old; so goes the blessing of Artemis.

But I _feel _old. Deep inside me, I feel old. And lost. And utterly alone. Annabeth and Percy are gone. The Jackson-Chase children that I was the godmother to have moved on, married, had children. I'm even the godmother of one of those kids too, though I can't remember their names. Maybe those kids had kids too; I don't remember how old any of them are.

That's how I feel old. I'm beginning to forget things I shouldn't. Like what Annabeth looked like when she was young and still in her prime. Like the face of my brother, my mother.

Like the goofy, lopsided grin that I used to always associate with you.

Luke Castellan.

The boy who could never smile straight.

The boy that died before he truly could have lived long enough to say he had lived.

101 isn't very old for a hunter, compared to the age others are, anyway. Zoe Nightshade was about 500 years old; remember her? Of course you would; you had a shorter span of years to remember all the events of.

I don't remember what she looks like either.

But I remember you. The first time we met; in that dragon's cave where you got that striking scar on your face, and I got a matching one, except on my upper leg. I remember the shade of your eyes, and the fact that your hair was a sandy blond. And sometimes, I still wake up with the urge to run my hands through your spiky hair, though I know it's just as impossible now as it was before.

I remember fighting on top of that cliff, and the horror and guilt I felt when I instinctively kicked you off the side. I can still remember the feeling; the rush of air as I lift my foot up to kick you, and the horrible crushing guilt that followed, silencing my scream.

And I remember that when Hera's statue fell on me, I almost sobbed in relief.

I wouldn't have to watch you die.

I've never been thankful to Hera before that moment.

I guess all of this is just a long way of saying goodbye. It really takes a lot out of me to write these letters to you. I don't think I can do it anymore without crying. And I'm done with crying.

I guess now I have to stick around long enough to find out if you actually reincarnated yourself. And if you did, long enough to find you. And if you didn't, the first thing I'll do when I get to Elysium is find you. And tell you all (well, at least most) of this in person.

I'll tell you how sorry I am that I couldn't be there for you, how sorry I am that I pushed you away when I had the power to set everything right. How sorry that I only realized how much I needed you after it was to late.

But more importantly, how sorry I am that I couldn't come to say good bye. I know it would have hurt; hurt more than anything in the world. But I should have sucked it up. I'd like to think you'd come to say good bye to me. That you'd be able to suck up the pain for me. That I'm the only shitty friend in this relationship.

I can't make everything right, not now, and maybe not ever. But I can at least fix one thing. Our goodbye.

Good bye Luke Castellan. I love you and I hate you, but most of all, I miss you. I should have seen them burn your shroud. I should have done so many things that I didn't, and I know that these regrets will sit heavily on my shoulders for the rest of the long years of my life. And already, it feels too long.

Annabeth and Percy are gone. Clarisse, Nico, and Rachel too. You. I am the last of our generation; the one left behind to watch all those I love and care about die around me.

If I didn't have you, I don't think I could continue. I'll go on, stumbling painfully towards the end of the tunnel where I know you'll be waiting, unless I find you along the way. In either case, I suppose I'll be happy one way or another. As long as I find you.

Good bye Luke Castellan.

Until we meet again.

Love, Thalia Grace  
_


End file.
